


(17. Ornament) / to sleep, with angels watching over you

by Mothfluff



Series: GO-ctober Prompts 2019 [17]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Gen, M/M, October Prompt Challenge, One Word Prompts, sometimes a decoration is just a decoration, sometimes it's a bit more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 00:49:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21090611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothfluff/pseuds/Mothfluff
Summary: My attempts at an October Challenge, basically using the original Inktober prompts for drabbles.(Each prompt will be posted as part of a series, not chapters, so I can add tags/characters/ratings/trigger warnings for each instead of the whole she-bang)Prompt 17 - Ornament“I'm free to decorate my home however I see fit. If you don't like it, you have a home of your own.” With various decorations I'm not too fond of, he thought, but didn't dare say. If Crowley considered his angels tacky, the statue in his hallway was more than just hypocrisy.“You're not decorating, angel, you're basically marking your territory.” Crowley flicked his finger against the nose of the angel-bust sitting next to his chair on a side table. “Setting up guards at all your gates. An old habit, I guess.”“Oh please, Crowley. You're reading far too much into this.” Aziraphale sighed. “They're merely ornamental.”





	(17. Ornament) / to sleep, with angels watching over you

“Where do you even find these tacky things?”

Aziraphale was polishing some non-existent dust off of the small angel candleholder before placing it neatly on top of a stack of books next to the till. (Not first editions, mind you, books that were not quite as important, near the till so customers could rifle through them without damaging anything. Likewise, the candle in the holder was nothing more than decoration, never to be lit – he knew very well how Crowley felt about lit candles anywhere in the shop.)

“Antique stores. Flea markets.” He finally answered Crowley's exasperated question as he nudged his newest addition a little to the left so it would sit perfect. He didn't need to look at the demon to know he was getting some very judgemental staring from him.

“You know, there's a reason why they're there. It means other people wanted to get rid of them.”

“Oh, shush.” Aziraphale said and, almost in an act of rebellion, began dusting the angel statues atop two bookshelves. Crowley groaned.

“You ever spend a moment thinking about how it feels being surrounded by angels everywhere I look in this place? You think it feels safe falling asleep on a sofa with a smiley Cherub looking down at me?” He pouted – very ineffectively, as Aziraphale knew best when a pout was a pout, and when it was just the need for being contrary. He said as much with the stern look he gave him before an answer.

“You're pretty much surrounded by a smiley angel anytime you're here, anyway, dear. Or anywhere else we go. Even if it is not a Cherub.”

“Yeah, but that one's a kind of angel I can _stand_.” He waved at the various statuettes, figurines, decorative bookends, soap dishes, candleholders, glass jars, sugar bowls, and embroidered throws covered in angels all around the shop. “Not these judgey fuckers staring me down all the time.”

He was met with a very judgey stare from the real angel right now.

“I'm free to decorate my home however I see fit. If you don't like it, you have a home of your own.” With various decorations I'm not too fond of, he thought, but didn't dare say. If Crowley considered his angels tacky, the statue in his hallway was more than just hypocrisy.

“You're not decorating, angel, you're basically marking your territory.” Crowley flicked his finger against the nose of the angel-bust sitting next to his chair on a side table. “Setting up guards at all your gates. An old habit, I guess.”

“Oh please, Crowley. You're reading far too much into this.” Aziraphale sighed. “They're merely ornamental.”

-*-

Crowley had taken to passive-agressively greet every 'angel' he came across on his visits to the bookshop. Aziraphale, after a few misunderstandings at the beginning, thinking Crowley had actually talked to him, very much ignored it all with the occasional huff and eye roll. Other than that, this particular argument had been laid to rest, or so he thought.

Sure, Crowley still groaned every time he found a new little figurine in some bookshelf, and did his best to manoeuvre him away from particular flea-market booths covered in winged things, but at least he wasn't trying to put any more meaning into it. They were decorations, not some subconscious attempt to surround himself with angels.

Aziraphale argued over that train of thought with himself when Crowley came back down from the flat during their customary after-dinner drinking session. He'd gone up to get some thing or other, Aziraphale hadn't really paid attention after several glasses of wine, their lines of territory had blurred extensively by now anyway, and he was not too fussed anymore about a demon rifling through his home alone when it was this particular demon. A bottle of cognac, he remembered as he saw it in Crowley's hand, one they'd both forgotten decades ago until Aziraphale had found it hidden away in his bedroom cupboard and taken it out onto the vanity to bring down sometime soon, and then promptly forgotten about it again until-

Aziraphale's rambling mind stilled. Crowley had to have gone into his bedroom to get it, he realised. He would've _seen_.

Maybe he hadn't. He was a demon, sure, but he was still polite. Maybe he'd only gone to the vanity, picked up the cognac, and not given the rest of the room any further thought. Maybe.

Crowley's face, covered in a sly grin, with eyes twinkling of glee, told him that was merely wishful thinking.

“Angel.” His voice was high, thrilled. “Have your bedposts always had snakes on them?”

“Do they?” Aziraphale tried to sound disinterested. “I suppose. I bought the place furnished, you know.”

“You sure?” Crowley stood in front of his armchair, not content to plop down on the sofa to open the cognac. “Cause I kind of remember there not being any snakes last time I was up there. Apart from me, of course.”

Aziraphale was watching the cognac pour into two snifters in front of him.

“When were you even up there last.” It was meant to sound less biting that it did.

“A few years back, when I had to carry your drunken arse up to bed cause you were too far gone to even sober up anymore.” Crowley handed him the glass of cognac with a smirk. “And I distinctively remember snake-free bedposts.”

“You must not have looked very clearly, then. You were drunk too, after all.”

“Mhm.” Crowley settled down on the armrest next to him, and Aziraphale had never wished more to just see him throw himself across the sofa as he usually did. “I suppose. And, I mean” Aziraphale could hear the grin still in his voice, even as he took a sip, “S'not like they mean anything, right? Merely ornamental.”

“Right.” Aziraphale took a sip of his own, tried to focus on the burn in his throat rather than the burn on his cheeks, which he hoped Crowley couldn't see from his vantage point. He could feel the demon's warmth sitting so close next to him, and yet was still not prepared to feel it even closer as he leaned down, his arm snaking around his front to lean on the other armrest as he whispered.

“Tell me, angel. How's it feel to fall asleep surrounded by snakes watching you?”

“Very safe.” Aziraphale turned his head, despite his blush burning bright red, to face Crowley mere inches away from his face. His teasing grin turned into blushed surprise as soon as their eyes met, noting the soft fires burning in the angel's. “That's why I put them there.”

“Well, angel.” Crowley whispered as he finally found his voice again after what felt like hours of a stare-down. “Maybe you should swap the tacky wooden snakes for a proper one sometime.”


End file.
